Culture Vultures
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: The heroes who pursued the Dark Wanderer had to cover their costs somehow. However, there was a difference between looting the bodies of fallen foes, and looting the treasures of long gone civilizations.


**Culture Vultures**

It appeared that the vultures of the desert of Aranoch were at ease as feeding on the flesh of claw vipers as they were of men.

Roland had killed men before. Over the last few months, he'd killed plenty of inhuman foes, and foes that had been men in life before being raised from the dead with unholy magic. He'd killed men in Westmarch, when King Leoric had sent his armies against the kingdom. He'd killed monsters in Khanduras, who roamed the land without any standing power to challenge them. Over the last few days, he'd killed plenty of creatures in Aranoch as well. And now, standing outside the entrance to one of the many tombs, he sat on a rock and began to clean the blood off his sword, looking away from the creatures he'd slain. As hideous as the vipers were, the sight and smell of vultures tearing into their flesh was one he took no pleasure from.

"You'll get sunburn."

Nor was he going to take any pleasure from what was about to transpire here. In this place, in the shade while on the sand, as Cassia exited the tomb, carrying all manner of trinkets with her.

"Fine, don't respond. You're a knight, so you've got the whole dark brooding thing down."

Roland glanced at her. "In light of the horrors we've faced, from Anguish to Pain while we pursue Terror, can you blame me?"

A darkness flickered in the Amazon's eyes, visible even in the shade she stood in. "No," she murmured. "I suppose not." The darkness retreated as quickly as it had appeared. "But if we're still pursuing the Dark Wanderer, I suggest you move your armour-plated arse and get to Lut Gholein. The ship has yet to sail and-"

"Not yet."

Cassia, who'd started to walk out to the sand, stopped and looked at the paladin beside her. "Excuse me?"

Roland pointed his sword at the bags she was carrying. "Put it back."

She stared at him. "You jest, surely."

"Do my eyes or voice indicate that?" He pointed the sword back to the tomb's entrance. "Return it. Now."

Cassia dropped the bags, put a hand to her chin, and frowned. "Good gods," she murmured. "You really have lost it haven't you?"

"I-"

"Has the battle against Hell damaged your mind that much?"

"You-"

"I've seen you loot the bodies of the dead Roland. You're in no position to tell me to not take treasures for myself."

He got to his feet. "I can. I am."

She frowned. "I see that sanctimony runs within the Knights of Westmarch."

"Not sanctimony, justice." He gestured at the vipers, still being picked apart by the vultures. "Creatures like them, I have no compunction against taking their ill-gotten gains. But Aranoch's treasures should remain in this land alone." He looked at the bags Cassia had been carrying. "Can you honestly tell me that all that gold is taken from the servants of Hell? Or did you help yourself to the relics created by those who came before?"

Cassia stared at him.

"Vultures feed on more than flesh."

"Charming," the Amazon murmured. "Comparing me to a vulture."

"Is it not apt?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not – I care little either way. All I care about is that from Westmarch to Kehjistan, gold is the universal currency. Gold will give us a ship, will give us weapons, will give us food."

"And if these are ill-gotten gains? Do you think the people of Aranoch created their treasures so they could be looted and sold?"

Cassia scoffed. "Look around you Roland. Why don't you ask them?"

In spite of everything, he did look around. Sand. Rock. More sand. Plus the bodies of the vipers who continued to feed the vultures. Aranoch had been a wasteland. It had been one even before Rakkis had led his army across the Twin Seas and brought the word of the Light to the West.

"Well?" Cassia asked. "Where are the people of Aranoch? Where is their great civilization?"

Roland looked back at her, no word upon his lips.

"They're dead," she said, before pointing her finger against the paladin's breastplate. "Dead, dead, dead. Like so many people are, and like so many people will be if the Prime Evils return to the world."

"And what world will you leave if you remove it of its treasures? How will history treat you?"

"Chances are that you and I will be dead before this is over. Chances are that Diablo will kill us all. But regardless of the judgement of history, at least doddery old men will be in a position to make such a judgement." Roland looked as she unslung her bow. For a moment, he thought that she was going to fire an arrow at him (a bizarre choice of attack at this close range), but instead, she fired it at one of the vultures. The creature was impaled through the neck and fell over, while its counterpart let out a shriek and flew off. Roland stared as Cassia walked over, knelt, and withdrew her arrow from the bird's neck before tossing the avian to Roland.

"Something for you to cook," she said. "Since you'll have so little gold to feed yourself."

Roland stared as he watched the Amazon come back over, pick up the sacks, and begin walking south towards Lut Gholein. Moving with speed and grace that belied how heavy her sacks had to be. Frowning, he looked at the vulture.

_So this is how we save what's left of this broken world, _he reflected. _By being vultures ourselves._

He nevertheless slung the vulture over his shoulder and began to follow her.

He could take the high road, but that didn't mean he didn't have to eat.


End file.
